"Wicked!" and Lorimer drew a long breath. "Good heavens! If you knew what Phil's ideas about you are, Miss Güldmar--"
"I do not wish to know," interrupted Thelma steadily. "You must quite understand me,--I am not clever to hide my thoughts, and--and--, you are glad when you talk sometimes to Sir Philip, are you not?" He nodded, gravely studying every light and shadow on the fair, upturned, innocent face.
"Yes!" she continued with some eagerness, "I see you are! Well, it is the same with me,--I do love to hear him speak! You know how his voice is like music, and how his kind ways warm the heart,--it is pleasant to be in his company--I am sure you also find it so! But for me,--it seems it is wrong,--it is not wise for me to show when I am happy. I do not care what other people say,--but I would not have him think ill of me for all the world!"
Lorimer took her hand and held it in his with a most tender loyalty and respect. Her naïve, simple words had, all unconsciously to herself, laid bare the secret of her soul to his eyes,--and though his heart beat with a strange sickening sense of unrest that flavored of despair, a gentle reverence filled him, such as a man might feel if some little snow-white shrine, sacred to purity and peace, should be suddenly unveiled before him.
"My dear Miss Güldmar," he said earnestly, "I assure you, you have no cause to be uneasy! You must not believe a word Dyceworthy says--every one with a grain of common sense can see what a liar and hypocrite he is! And as for you, you never do anything wrong,--don't imagine such nonsense! I wish there were more women like you!"
"Ah, that is very kind of you!" half laughed the girl, still allowing her hand to rest in his. "But I do not think everybody would have such a good opinion." They both started, and their hands fell asunder as a shadow darkened the room, and Sir Philip stood before them.
"Excuse me!" he said stiffly, lifting his hat with ceremonious politeness. "I ought to have knocked at the door--I--"
"Why?" asked Thelma, raising her eyebrows in surprise.
"Yes--why indeed?" echoed Lorimer, with a frank look at his friend.
"I am afraid,"--and for once the generally good-humored Errington looked positively petulant--"I am afraid I interrupted a pleasant conversation!" And he gave a little forced laugh of feigned amusement, but evident vexation.